A  NORMAL  JEW 


SERMON  PREACHED  AT  KOL  NIDRE  SERVICE 
BY 

MARTIN  A.  MEYER 

RABBI  TEMPLE  EMANU-EL 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL. 


A  NORMAL  JEW 

Sermon  preached  at  Kol  Nidre  Service,  by  Martin  A.  Meyer 
Rabbi  Temple  Emanu-El,  San  Francisco,  Cal. 


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THE  world  is  full  well-nigh  to  overflowing,  not  only 
with  prejudices  against  the  Jew,  but  also  with  mis- 
conceptions about  the  Jew.  It  is  pathetic,  if  not  discour- 
aging, to  note  how  persistent  these  misconceptions  be. 
The  world  still  holds  that  every  Jew  is  rich,  despite  the 
appearance  in  our  Western  civilization  of  the  Jewish 
proletariat,  whose  insistent  demands  have  reached 
even  non-sectarian  relief  agencies.  Fagin  and  Shy- 
lock  persist  in  the  minds  of  the  average  man  as  repre- 
sentative of  the  Jew,  despite  our  oft-told  tale  of  the 
misrepresentative  character  of  such  fiction.  The  theo- 
logical world  still  speaks  of  us  as  stubborn  and  stiff- 
necked,  even  when  liberalism  prevents  the  conception 
of  the  Jew  being  damned  eternally  by  reason  of  his 
rejection  of  Jesus  as  the  Messiah.  German  uni- 
versity professors  repeat  the  old  anti-Semitic  scandals 
of  Eisenmenger  and  Rohling,  oblivious  of  the  scientific 
contributions  from  the  pens  of  Jewish  savants  which 
prove  the  falsity  and  the  cruelty  of  such  contentions. 

Yet,  most  pathetic  of  all,  is  the  insistence  in  the 
minds  of  the  world  that  the  Jews  form  an  international 
body  organized  and  officered  and  in  control  of  untold 
wealth,  which  is  sent  hither  and  thither  as  need 
demands.  Probably  at  no  time  was  this  canard  given 
greater  prominence  than  during  the  Dreyfus  affair  in 


.Q^ 


France,  when  it  was  contended  by  Drumont  and  his 
associates  that  the  International  Jewish  Syndicate  stood 
behind  Dreyfus,  intent  upon  ruining  France  and  her 
army. 

What  a  huge  joke  this  is  can  only  be  appreciated  by 
the  Jew  who  knows  how  largely  divided  and  mutually 
antagonistic  the  elements  of  his  people  really  are.  If 
it  only  were  true!  What  a  power  we  would  be  if  we 
were  such  a  unit!  True,  we  are  influential,  but  it  is 
the  influence  of  individuals,  of  isolated  communities, 
strong  because  of  their  own  accomplishments  and 
achievements.  If  we  were  a  unit !  How  we  could  bring 
Russia  to  time,  teach  Roumania  a  well-deserved  lesson, 
and  beat  down  the  battery  of  venomous  assault  in 
Germany  and  Austria!  If  we  were  a  unit,  we  could 
solve  our  Jewish  problems — for  I  fear  that  we  have 
problems  rather  than  a  problem — in  a  trice.  Yet,  the 
truth  is,  we  are  divided  and  subdivided  into  an  almost 
infinite  number  of  sects,  parties,  classes,  rituals,  etc. 
East  is  arrayed  against  West,  North  against  South. 
Lordly  Sefardi  despises  Askenazi,  maligned  Tedesco. 
German  looks  down  upon  Russian,  and  Russian  in  turn 
upon  Roumanian  and  Galician;  and  all  unite  in  one 
effort  against  the  latest  comer  into  the  whirl  of  West- 
ern civilization.  Among  the  orthodox  we  find  reason- 
able, conservative,  modern;  among  reformers  extrem- 
ists, middle-of-the-roadsters,  and  conservatives.  Anti- 
Zionist  struggles  with  Zionist,  and  practical  Zionist 


finds  himself  at  odds  in  turn  with  the  cultural  and 
political  factions.  The  world  is  arrayed  against  Amer- 
ica and  America  against  the  world.  And  in  our  own 
communities,  up-town  wrestles  with  down-town;  east- 
side  suspects  west-side;  south  of  Market  Street  is 
ostracized  by  Western  Addition ; — each  its  own  type  of 
Jew,  each  insistent  upon  its  own  virtue,  proud  of  its 
achievements  and  keen  for  the  maintenance  of  its 
right,  and  in  many  cases  each  conscious  that  he  alone 
represents  the  saving  element  in  Jewry.  Racial  type, 
national  prejudices,  ritual  forms,  philosophic  interpre- 
tation— all  have  entered  and  reduced  the  body  of  Juda- 
ism to  a  veritable  chaos  of  tiny  segments,  each  cherish- 
ing its  own  ideal  and  hope  for  the  Jew  and  his  destiny. 

Jewish  history  has  been  tragic  because  of  this  one 
fact.  With  the  Romans  pounding  upon  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem  and  threatening  the  integrity  of  the  Jewish 
people,  partisan  belabored  partisan  within  the  walls, 
so  that  the  last  day  dawned  upon  a  handful,  survivors 
of  their  own  internecine  struggle  as  well  as  the  enemies' 
darts  and  spears.  What  a  miserable  picture  is  pre- 
sented to  us  time  and  again  throughout  history  of  men 
within  the  camp  itself  reporting,  informing  a  common 
enemy,  whose  constant  presence  did  not  seem  to  be  a 
sufficient  stimulus  to  bring  the  people  to  a  reasonable 
realization  of  their  own  common  danger,  and  so  weld 
them  into  a  solid  unity ! 

Nor  has  Judaism  on  its  spiritual  side  been  the  hard 


and  fast  and  unyielding  thing  the  Christian  world  has 
thought  it  to  be.  The  average  non-Jew  thinks  that  the 
Jew  and  Judaism  developed  up  to  the  time  of  the  death 
of  Jesus  and  have  survived  since  then  dead  and  lifeless 
through  the  twenty  centuries  that  have  passed.  If 
there  be  one  thing  which  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  history  of  the  Jew  has  demonstrated,  it  is  just  this : 
that  the  Jew  and  Judaism  have  been  living  vitally, 
developing  through  all  these  centuries,  and  that  the 
Judaism  of  to-day  is  not  the  Judaism  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  no  more  than  was  the  Judaism  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  the  Judaism  of  the  fifth  century.  Indeed, 
every  variation  has  been  an  evidence  of  growth.  Para- 
doxical as  it  may  seem,  each  division,  each  sect,  each 
party  is  an  evidence  that  Judaism  is  a  living  thing, 
capable  of  growth  and  development.  Biologists  tell  us 
that  the  cell  evidences  life  so  long  as  it  maintains  this 
power  of  division  and  subdivision.  So,  too,  does  this 
differentiation  within  the  body  of  Judaism  evidence 
its  vitality.  It  is  a  Jewish  ideal,  which  has  been  dem- 
onstrated through  Jewish  experience,  that  unity  can  be 
and  is  maintained  through  variety  rather  than  through 
uniformity  and  conformity. 

The  church  in  medieval  Europe  attempted  to  enforce 
its  ideal  of  unity  through  uniformity,  with  results  so 
dire  to  the  general  civilization  of  the  world  as  to 
suggest  the  question  of  the  validity  of  such  an  ideal. 
All  disturbing  elements  were  to  be  eliminated  at  any 


cost,  however  great  it  might  be,  and  sixteenth- 
century  Spain,  rid  of  Jews  and  Moors  and  heretics, 
conforming  from  the  Pyrenees  to  Gibraltar,  reduced  to 
a  dead  level,  was  the  result  of  such  a  process,  which 
conduced  to  the  spiritual  and  economic  decay  of  Spain 
more  than  any  other  one  fact.  And  so,  too,  whenever 
Judaism  played  false  to  its  ideals  and  imitated  the 
vicious  customs  of  the  world,  it  not  only  played  false 
to  itself,  but  endangered  its  highest  interests.  Seven- 
teenth-century Amsterdam  Jewry  was  not  big  enough 
to  retain  in  its  midst  a  man  who  found  God  along 
other  than  the  traditional  lines.  The  Shofar  blown  and 
the  curse  pronounced  against  Benedict  Spinoza  not 
only  drove  him  from  the  camp  of  Israel,  but  were  the 
signals  of  the  inner  decay  and  spiritual  degeneration 
of  medieval  Jewry.  Heresy  trials  find  no  place  in 
modern  Jewry,  not  only  because  we  have  no  central 
ecclesiastical  authority,  but  because  the  Jew  feels  that 
such  activities  are  essentially  out  of  keeping  with  the 
ideals  of  his  history  and  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  the 
Jew  and  Judaism. 

Confessedly,  this  is  at  once  our  strength  and  our 
weakness,  for  each  party  is  a  new  evidence  of  the  Jew's 
interest  in  the  problems  of  Jewry.  Each  party  is  a  sign 
that  the  Jew  thinks.  His  thinking  has  been  his  salva- 
tion. The  fact  that  he  has  always  been  conscious  of 
what  threatened  him  both  from  within  and  without,  of 
what  he  could  do  and  what  he  could  not  do — this  con- 


sciousness  has  been  the  saving  factor  in  his  checkered 
career,  for  there  has  been  an  ideal  unity  throughout  all 
these  varieties.  It  would  be  just  as  idle  to  assert  that 
there  was  no  Judaism  because  of  these  varieties  as  that 
there  was  no  life  because  of  its  myriad  manifestations. 

In  the  heated  and  animated  discussions  of  the  recon- 
struction period  of  our  history,  which  we  called  the 
Talmudic  Period,  the  principle  was  laid  down  that  all 
differences  which  were  for  ideal  needs  were  justified 
and  justifiable.  "For  the  sake  of  Heaven"  is  the  term 
used;  the  ideal  justifies  indeed.  And  so  every  dissent- 
ing thought  which  has  had  as  its  aim  the  establishment 
of  a  bigger,  better,  and  more  quickening  life  for  the 
Jew  has  been  justified,  and,  indeed,  has  justified  itself. 

In  the  ninth  century  of  the  modern  era  there  ap- 
peared what  was  called  the  Karaite  heresy.  Wearied 
with  the  endless  discussions  and  the  traditional  casu- 
istry, Anan,  the  father  of  this  sect,  turned  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Jewish  world  once  more  to  the  treasures 
of  the  Bible  and  brought  it  face  to  face  with  the 
original  sources  of  its  inspiration.  Despite  the  tem- 
porary uproar  in  the  camp,  and  the  noise  of  con- 
tending armies,  the  end  more  than  justified  the  dissen- 
sion. The  Jew  was  turned  away  from  the  sole  consid- 
eration of  what  Akiba  had  said  and  how  Hillel  had 
interpreted  this  and  Shammai  that.  Attention  was 
directed  to  the  Bible  itself,  and  one  of  the  most  glorious 
periods  of  Jewish  history  was  inaugurated  in  which 

8 


Saadiah,  Rashi,  Ibn  Esra,  and  Kimchi  stand  out  as 
lights  in  the  exile.  So,  too,  when  a  century  ago  the 
Jew  merged  into  the  modern  world  and  demanded  that 
his  religion  be  restated  in  conformance  with  the  ideals 
of  his  prophets  and  the  spirit  of  the  times,  reform  not 
only  justified  itself  in  its  own  activities,  but  in  the 
manner  in  which  it  brought  the  old  school  to  time.  The 
greatest  achievement  of  the  reform  school  was  the 
demand  on  the  part  of  Sampson  Raphael  Hirsch  and 
his  school,  that,  while  preserving  all  the  traditional 
values  of  the  Jewish  world,  these  be  given  a  modern 
statement ;  that  modern  thought  be  invoked  to  establish 
them. 

So,  too,  I  take  it  that  the  Zionist  movement  will  have 
justified  itself  in  its  final  results,  even  if  the  funda- 
mental  proposition  of  the  Zionist  be  not  realized  in  the 
establishment  of  a  Jewish  nation  on  the  soil  of  Pales- 
tine ;  but  its  emphasis  upon  the  validity  of  Jewish  things 
in  the  modern  world,  where  these  things  had  been  lost 
sight  of,  its  demands  of  more  and  not  less  Judaism, 
its  call  to  Jewish  manhood  to  stand  by  its  ideals,  its 
appeals  to  Jewish  self-respect — all  these  have  tran- 
scended the  limits  of  the  movement  itself,  and  have 
added  new  strength  and  vigor  to  the  Jewish  life  of  our 
day  and  generation.  Teaching  the  Jew  not  to  turn  the 
other  cheek,  standing  upon  his  rights,  jealous  of  his 
duties  and  his  obligations,  Zionism,  whether  it  be  prac- 
ticable or  not,  has  given  something  to  the  Jewish 


world,  without  which  it  had  been  infinitely  poorer,  with 
which  it  finds  itself  progressing  with  new  vigor  and 
vitality. 

Let  us  lay,  however,  all  possible  emphasis  by  itera- 
tion and  reiteration  upon  the  thought  that  it  is  only 
when  the  ideal  is  high  and  lofty,  only  when  the  ideal 
of  a  better  Israel  is  before  our  minds,  that  the  con- 
tinued diversification  of  Jewish  life  is  an  indication  of 
vitality  and  foreboding  of  good.  For  with  pain  and 
regret  we  are  compelled  to  note  the  appearance  of  cer- 
tain classes  in  modern  Jewry  whose  presence  is  not  the 
result  of  so  high  an  ideal,  but  rather  a  sign  of  weakness 
and  internal  decay,  whose  perpetuation  is  a  more  or 
less  covert  attack  upon  the  integrity  of  the  household  of 
Israel,  whose  eradication  is  the  prime  duty  of  every 
loyal  son  of  the  covenant,  whose  destruction  is  the 
object  of  all  Jewish  striving.  Let  us  see  who  they  be, 
so  that  by  contrast  we  shall  the  better  know  who  are 
the  normal,  the  dependable,  the  onward  progressive 
sons  of  Israel. 

First  of  all,  a  word  about  a  class  who,  profaning 
the  sanctity  of  the  ideals  of  toleration,  are  at  heart 
indifferent,  if  not  actually  antagonistic,  to  the  house  of 
Israel.  This  class  is  so  liberal  that  it  has  liberated 
itself  from  all  bonds  of  loyalty.  Misunderstanding  the 
demands  of  tolerance,  they  confound  liberalism  and  in- 
difference. Liberal  to  all  save  those  who  disagree  with 
them,  they  are  more  illiberal  than  the  medieval  fanatic 

10 


himself.  Toleration  is  not  indifference  to  all  forms  of 
faith  as  equally  meaningless  or  even  as  equally  valuable. 
It  is  a  positive  conviction  of  one's  own  viewpoint  which 
at  the  same  time  allows  for  honest  difference  of  opin- 
ion among  others.  I  believe  that  when  a  rabbi  is  in- 
vited to  conduct  a  service  in  a  Christian  church  and  to 
preach  the  sermon,  both  the  rabbi  and  the  church  are 
mutually  tolerant.  Each  has  a  different  point  of  view, 
each  holds  to  his  point  of  view ;  yet  each  is  willing 
to  listen  to  the  presentation  of  the  other  side.  If  the 
rabbi  had  no  convictions,  and  the  church  had  none, 
neither  would  benefit  by  the  contact.  Similarly,  if  we 
were  too  narrow-minded  to  permit  of  the  contact,  tol- 
eration would  be  out  of  the  question.  But  the  danger- 
point  comes  here,  good  friends,  that  we  Jews  are  too 
eager  to  strip  ourselves  of  all  of  that  which  is  ours  and 
stand  naked  and  bare  before  the  world,  a  target  for  its 
assaults  as  well  as  for  its  sneers.  There  is  no  logical 
place  for  the  Jew  who  has  been  dejudaized  and 
who  holds  himself  aloof  from  the  Christian  church. 
We  have  been  far  too  ready  to  go  more  than  half 
way,  far  more  than  the  world  around  us.  A  note  of 
warning  must  be  sounded,  for  despite  the  splendid 
liberalism  of  the  modern  synagogue  we  fail  to  find  a 
corresponding  movement  in  the  outside  world.  Pro- 
fessors of  liberal  German  theology  continue  to  repeat 
the  same  old  lies  about  the  Jew,  Christian  pulpits  to 
reiterate  the  same  old  scandals,  secular  papers  to 

11 


discriminate,  and  the  world  at  large  little  minded  to 
meet  us  even  half  way.  In  this  connection  I  believe 
an  experience  may  be  typical :  A  number  of  years 
ago  I  attended  an  assembly  of  the  New  York  State 
Conference  of  Religion  in  the  little  city  of  Pough- 
keepsie,  New  York.  The  programme  for  this  partic- 
ular evening  was  a  discussion  of  the  mutual  debts  of 
Christianity  and  Judaism.  What  Christianity  owed 
Judaism  was  eloquently  and  ably  presented  by  Pro- 
fessor Toy  of  Harvard.  One  of  the  liberals,  so-called, 
of  American  Jewry,  one  who  is  no  more  a  rabbi,  then 
presented  the  theme,  What  Judaism  owes  Christian- 
ity. When  he  had  completed  his  fulsome,  empty 
liberal  praises  of  Christendom  and  Jesus,  a  pious  soul 
seated  before  me  turned  to  her  neighbor,  and  with 
divine  joy  in  her  tones,  announced,  "Thank  God,  at 
last  the  Jews  are  coming  to  Jesus." 

In  this  connection,  may  I  call  attention  ,to  the 
strikingly  similar  phenomenon  in  a  book  which  has 
created  a  positive  furor  in  theological  circles  in  Ger- 
many— "The  Christ  Myth,"  by  Professor  Arthur 
Drewes.  The  thesis  of  this  book  may  be  summed  up 
in  this  statement :  That  Jesus  of  Nazareth  never 
existed  and  that  the  gospels  and  the  epistles  are  the 
results  of  the  myth-making  faculty  of  the  world  of 
two  thousand  years  ago.  One  might  expect  that  in  a 
book  of  such  liberal  tendencies  a  generous  attitude 
would  be  had  by  the  author  towards  the  Jew  and 

12 


Judaism ;  yet  truth  to  relate,  Professor  Drewes  is  as 
bitter  in  his  animadversions  against  the  Jew  as  any 
reactionary  preacher  of  a  backwoods  town  in  undis- 
covered America.  These  things  may  be  but  the 
straws  which  indicate  the  way  the  wind  is  blowing, 
but  they  are  indications  which  we  who  would  be 
watchmen  for  the  house  of  Israel  must  regard,  and 
meeting  them,  combat  them,  lest  the  people  be  done 
new  harm. 

I  find  the  same  attitude  of  mind  in  many  whose 
slogan  is  non-sectarian  charity,  who,  with  the  cry 
upon  their  lips  that  need  knows  no  creed,  are  willing 
to  give  the  full  strength  of  service,  both  personal  and 
financial,  to  everything  and  anything  save  Jewish  de- 
mands. You  know  what  it  is  to  be  rebuffed  by  the 
unwilling  with  that  sententious  yet  meaningless  cry. 
I  wonder  how  many  of  us  know  just  what  non- 
sectarian  charity  means.  On  the  one  hand,  it  means 
that  no  discrimination  or  distinction  be  made  be- 
tween the  different  Protestant  sects.  Conscious  of 
the  fact  that  it  would  be  exceedingly  difficult  to  carry 
on  relief  work  for  each  separate  church,  the  numer- 
ous Protestant  churches  united  to  do  their  relief 
work  in  common.  The  work  was  non-sectarian  so 
far  as  Protestants  went.  The  very  fact  that  the 
Catholic  Church  has  always  abstained  from  partici- 
pation in  such  non-sectarian  movements  indicates 
that  they  appreciate  this  fact.  Yet  we  Jews,  all  too 

13 


gullible,  susceptible  to  every  high-sounding  phrase, 
willing  to  prove  our  good  faith  to  the  world,  have 
turned  this  consideration  aside  and  have  plunged  in,  in 
many  cases  to  our  hurt,  without  measure  and  without 
restraint.  On  the  other  hand,  the  bulk  of  non-sectarian 
charity  means  this:  A  maximum  Jewish  support 
with  a  minimum  of  returns  to  such  Jews  as  may 
present  themselves  for  assistance  and  aid.  The  sad 
experiences  which  come  to  our  notice  from  time  to 
time  but  demonstrate  that  we  have  mildly  put  the 
case.  I  am  not  to  be  misunderstood  as  discouraging 
Jewish  participation  in  non-sectarian  work.  I  appre- 
ciate our  duties  to  the  general  community  as  well  as 
to  our  own,  but  I  contend,  and  ever  shall  contend, 
that  they  who  follow  non-sectarian  lines  to  the 
neglect  and  the  shame  of  our  Jewish  community  are 
not  discharging  their  obligations,  either  as  men  or  as 
Jews,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  bring  peace.  I  cannot 
sympathize  with  the  attitude  of  mind  which  fur- 
nishes thousands  for  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  and  not  a  penny 
for  the  Y.  M.  H.  A. ;  with  that  type  which  is  willing  to 
expend  exertion  beyond  all  measure  in  giving  a  happy 
holiday  to  thousands  of  little  Christians  at  Easter  or 
similar  church  festivals,  but  to  whom  any  effort  is 
too  great  to  bring  a  bit  of  joy  to  the  toiling  masses 
of  Jews  at  their  holy  seasons  and  festivals.  Truth 
to  say,  the  bulk  of  these  illiberal  liberals  who  are 
loyal  to  no  faith,  who  admire  every  God  save  the 

14 


God  of  Israel,  only  remain  nominal  Jews  because  the 
world  will  not  forget  they  are  Jews. 

Let  us  beware  of  our  liberals,  who,  buzzard-like, 
are  insensible  to  the  beauty  and  to  the  glories  of 
Israel.  They  represent  a  destructive  force.  They 
are  not  for  us.  They  are  not  with  us.  In  last  analy- 
sis, they  are  against  us.  I  am  not  reactionary  nor 
an  obscurantist  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  nor  would 
I  have  my  people  so;  but  I  am  eternally  opposed  to 
so  false  a  liberalism  which  degenerates  and  destroys 
when  it  should  reconstruct  and  revive.  We  stand 
for  the  liberalism  which  recognizes  the  good  abroad 
because  it  knows  and  loves  the  good  at  home.  We 
are  opposed  to  the  liberalism  which,  as  the  old  rab- 
binical apologue  has  it,  bores  a  hole  in  the  boat  be- 
neath its  own  seat,  supremely  contemptuous  of  the 
rights  of  others  in  the  self-same  boat. 

With  but  little,  if  any  difference  of  degree  of  the 
menace  to  the  perpetuity  and  integrity  of  Israel  is  the 
class  we  call  the  parasitic  Jew.  This  is  a  class  loud  in 
its  praises  of  the  glories  which  were.  They  tell  us 
of  their  pride  in  what  the  Jew  was  and  what  he  has 
accomplished,  but  whose  Jewish  pride  fails  at  the  test 
of  present  service.  The  race  Jew  is  a  first  cousin  to 
this  stripe,  for  their  whole  energy  is  absorbed  so  far  as 
they  are  Jews  by  an  empty  pride  in  the  past.  They 
boast  loudly,  they  criticize  vigorously.  They  are  our 
knockers.  Nothing  in  heaven  nor  on  earth  suits. 

15 


Everything  is  sharply  criticized.  Absorbed  in  the  con- 
templation of  the  glories  of  the  past,  they  have  no 
energy  and  strength  for  present  service,  or,  rather,  to 
tell  the  truth,  their  good-will  is  lacking.  It  reminds  me 
of  a  story  told  of  a  Jew  in  New  York  City  who  was 
approached  by  a  committee  from  the  Mt.  Sinai  Hos- 
pital and  asked  to  contribute  to  the  institution.  He  at 
once  launched  into  a  tirade  against  sectarian  institu- 
tions. When  informed  that  the  hospital  accepted  pa- 
tients without  regard  to  creed  or  race,  he  turned  on  the 
committeemen  with  a  second  tirade  against  the  wrong 
of  using  Jewish  money  to  support  the  very  class  who  at 
any  time  might  turn  against  the  Jew.  In  a  word,  he 
would  not  contribute  to  the  institution,  no  matter  what 
course  is  pursued.  And  so,  with  the  parasitic  Jew. 

What  little  Jewishness  is  left  in  his  heart  is  but  the 
pale  reflection  of  things  that  were.  His  strength  is  de- 
rived from  the  inherited  greatness  of  others,  and  not 
from  the  exercise  of  his  own  right  arm.  Giving  the  ap- 
pearance of  power,  he  is  the  weakest  of  weak  mortals. 
He  is  a  jelly-fish  individual,  lacking  in  backbone,  in 
moral  fiber,  in  power  and  in  force.  He  is  unwilling  to 
exert  himself  so  as  to  transmit  his  Judaism,  and,  after 
all,  the  test  of  our  loyalty  is  our  willingness  to  trans- 
mit to  our  children  what  we  ourselves  may  be.  In  the 
Midrash  we  find  the  story  of  the  Roman  official  ap- 
proaching an  octogenarian  who  was  busy  planting  fruit- 
trees,  and  demanding  of  him  why  he  at  his  advanced 

16 


age  planted  trees  whose  fruit  he  could  never  hope  to 
enjoy.  The  old  man  replied :  "I  plant  for  my  children, 
as  my  fathers  planted  for  me."  It  is  the  Jew  who  will 
work  for  his  children  and  children's  children  as  his 
fathers  and  grandfathers  worked  for  him  who  is  the 
dependable,  vital  factor  in  the  situation,  and  just  at  this 
point  the  parasite  fails  absolutely.  The  historical  con- 
sciousness of  his  people  has  not  vitalized  him  and  his 
activity.  He  may  be  a  walking  Jewish  Encyclopedia, 
but  he  has  never  "made  the  connection  between  the 
boiler  and  the  engine."  You  know  the  creature.  Ap- 
proached to  join  a  synagogue,  to  contribute  to  the  fed- 
eration, take  up  a  bond  for  the  hospital,  he  is  all  too 
ready  with  his  assaults  upon  the  several  institutions 
and  insistent  in  his  refusal  to  co-operate ;  yet  he  does 
not  hesitate  openly  to  brag  of  the  good  work  which  "we 
Jews"  do.  He  is  a  parasite,  and  although  the  parasite 
be  as  lovely  as  the  loveliest  orchid,  he  remains  an  in- 
ferior, threatening  element  of  life.  It  is  the  semblance 
of  life  and  not  the  reality. 

Nor  from  this  list  of  undesirable  Jewish  factors  can 
we  afford  to  omit  the  class  we  dub  professional  Jews. 
They  are  Jews  because  it  pays  to  be  a  Jew.  Many, 
indeed,  as  have  been  the  returns  to  Jerusalem  via  a 
beautiful  Jewess,  still  more  numerous  are  the  returns 
via  the  possibility  of  profit.  There  is  many  a  young 
man  who  has  blushed  his  way  through  college  in  his 
shameless  attempts  to  conceal  his  Jewish  identity,  who 

17 


suddenly  discovers  when  he  emerges  a  full-fledged 
practitioner  of  his  profession  that  his  Jewish  relations 
and  his  father's  Jewish  friends  promise  most  for  his 
future  career.  He  makes  his  living  out  of  the  Jew. 
He  is  a  Jew  for  that  reason  and  none  else.  But  most 
conspicuous  in  this  class,  and  most  despicable,  is  the 
so-called  Hebrew  politician.  You  rarely  find  him 
contributing  to  our  charities  or  affiliating  with  the 
synagogue,  or  even  with  our  so-called  Jewish  clubs, 
save  perhaps  on  the  eve  of  the  election,  when  he  hopes 
to  profit  by  his  affiliation.  Yet,  because  he  is  a  Jew 
by  birth,  the  politician  thinks  he  can  swing  the  Hebrew 
vote,  and  because  his  party  expects  him  to  do  this  he 
is  a  Jew.  His  rise  in  the  world  is  due  to  his  group 
affiliation,  and  he  is  wise  enough  to  capitalize  this 
fact.  But  he  is  an  incubus  upon  his  own  people.  Nine 
times  out  of  ten  he  misrepresents  us,  and  is  more  of 
a  menace  than  a  blessing.  The  professional  Jew  is  just 
one  step  lower  than  the  parasite  class,  for  his  affiliation 
is  purely  selfish,  and,  unfortunately  for  us,  his  activity 
cannot  be  controlled. 

Yet  most  contemptible  is  the  one  who  is  ashamed 
of  his  Jewish  affiliations — who  will  associate  with  fifth 
or  sixth-class  Gentiles  just  because  they  are  not  Jews, 
and  think  themselves  improved  socially  and  morally 
because  they  are  frequently  seen  in  such  company. 
Strange,  indeed,  how  when  this  madness  seizes  us  no 
level  is  too  low.  It  is  the  Jew  who  tries  to  hide  himself 

18 


in  the  Unitarian  Church  or  the  Christian  Science  meet- 
ing-house in  the  mad  hope  that  they  might  conceal  who 
they  are  and  whence  they  came.  It  is  the  blushing 
Hebrew  who  is  never  so  happy  as  when  he  is  mistaken 
for  a  Gentile  swell,  who  apologizes  for  his  name,  for 
his  face,  for  his  family,  in  his  mad  and  frantic  efforts 
to  escape  what  he  terms  his  bonds.  Of  what,  pray,  of 
whom  may  you  be  ashamed?  Chiefly  of  yourself,  of 
your  own  pettiness,  of  your  own  incapacity,  of  your 
own  ignorance,  of  your  own  inability  to  see  beyond 
the  end  of  your  nose,  of  your  own  puny  mentality,  of 
your  own  narrow  selfishness,  of  your  own  vaunting 
ambitions.  How  ignorant  and  blind  you  be ! 

The  Jew  need  not  be  ashamed.  His  role  in  history 
is  by  no  means  despicable.  His  career  for  three  thou- 
sand years  as  the  banner-bearer  of  God's  truth,  as  the 
missionaries  of  God's  law,  as  the  teachers  of  the 
nations,  is  perhaps  a  difficult  role,  but  not  by  any  means 
a  contemptible  one.  The  attainments  of  the  Jew  are 
by  no  means  mean.  He  has  been  able  to  overcome  the 
repeated  onslaughts  of  discrimination.  He  has  been 
able  to  achieve  what  none  others  have  achieved  under 
similar  difficulties.  His  history  has  been  glorious,  and 
his  dream  of  future  power  most  wondrous.  Not  the 
dream  of  empire,  not  the  dream  of  worldly  riches,  not 
the  dream  of  dominion,  but  the  vision  of  the  world 
transformed  and  saved  by  the  indwelling  of  these  splen- 
did spiritual  qualities  which  raise  man  out  of  himself 

19 


and  put  him  in  the  realm  of  the  divine.  There  is 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  either  in  the  past  or  the 
present  or  the  future.  Problems  may  be  bitter  and 
the  way  may  be  difficult ;  but  to  hang  the  head  in  shame, 
to  feel  the  heart  and  soul  crushed  down  by  morbid 
self-consciousness,  there  is  no  occasion  for  anything 
like  this. 

With  all  these — the  pseudo-liberal,  the  high-colored 
parasite,  the  self-seeking  professional,  and  the  blushing 
ashamed — I  ask  you  to  contrast  the  normal  Jew.  He  is 
proud,  not  in  the  sense  of  self-sufficiency  or  arrogance, 
save  that  in  the  presence  of  the  ashamed  he  is  deter- 
mined to  hold  his  head  higher  still.  He  is  not  morbid, 
though  he  be  self-conscious.  He  knows  himself,  his 
people,  their  powers,  their  problems.  He  is  contented, 
for  he  "dwells  in  the  midst  of  his  people,"  and  being 
contented,  realizes  how  his  efforts  can  contribute 
towards  developing  his  people  to  higher  efficiency  and 
the  greater  expression  of  their  powers  and  capacities. 
Firm  and  fast  in  his  own  convictions,  he  is  neither  nar- 
row-minded nor  indifferent  towards  any  man  whatever, 
no  matter  what  be  his  creed,  his  color,  his  race,  or  his 
position  in  life.  Proud  of  what  the  Jew  has  done,  he 
is  willing  to  lend  himself  and  his  service  and  his  sac- 
rifice that  a  bigger  and  a  better  Judaism  might  yet 
come  to  pass.  Representative  of  his  people  and  their 
best  interests,  he  is  ever  ready  to  efface  himself  for 

20 


the  demands  of  service  consistent  with  the  dignity  and 
capacity  of  his  people. 

He  knows,  and  he  knows  with  passion.  He  reads 
his  Bible,  and  reading,  he  feels  himself  part  of 
the  people  with  whose  blood  it  has  been  written, 
and  whose  lives  have  sealed  and  consecrated  it.  It 
is  more  than  literature.  It  is  the  expression  of  a 
people's  experience  in  their  search  for  God  and 
the  godlike  in  the  man  life.  He  repeats  his  Shema, 
and  with  him  in  ever-increasing  chorus  the  myriads 
of  Israel  chant  the  glorious  confession  of  the  faith. 
To  him  the  formula  of  the  divine  unity  is  no  mere 
philosophic  concept.  It  is  more  than  a  theological 
statement.  It  is  an  historical  experience  to  which  he 
and  his  people  have  borne  witness  throughout  time.  It 
is  an  inner  conviction,  vocal  for  the  moment  on  his  own 
lips.  As  the  rabbis  put  it,  with  its  utterance  he  "assumes 
the  yoke  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  in  which,  as  a  citi- 
zen of  the  city  of  God  he  consecrates  himself  each  night 
and  day  anew  to  the  realization  of  his  people's  ideals. 
His  prayer  book  is  the  treasure-house  of  his  people's 
spirit,  and  his  Bible  the  inspired  inspiration  of  his  daily 
conduct.  Hallowed  by  the  love  and  devotion  of  the 
centuries,  by  the  lives  of  his  fellows,  each  phrase  is 
vibrant  with  truth's  own  song  and  flaming  with  light's 
own  beauty.  He  knows  with  passion,  the  passion  of 
intimate  knowledge,  keen  appreciation  and  holy 
aspiration. 

21 


He  works,  too,  does  this  normal  Jew.  He  works 
full  well  as  much  if  not  more  than  he  boasts  or  criti- 
cizes. As  a  worker,  he  is  appreciative  of  the  work  of 
others  and  ready  to  recognize  merit  and  talent  wherever 
it  may  be  found.  His  zeal  is  big  enough  to  bring  him 
to  the  altar  of  service  and  of  sacrifice.  He  wants 
Judaism  to  live,  to  grow,  to  develop,  to  unfold,  to 
reveal  her  powers  more  and  more  as  the  years  go  by. 
The  future  is  as  real  to  him  as  the  present  or  the  past. 
It  calls  with  its  promise  and  lures  with  its  hopes.  Such 
a  one  is  jealous  of  the  good  name  of  the  Jew  and  the 
honor  of  his  people.  To  him  it  is  as  sacred  as  life  itself, 
dearer  than  his  own  honor ;  for  in  that  good  name  and 
sacred  honor  reposes  the  welfare  and  the  well-being 
of  unnumbered  who  are  yet  to  come.  So  he  is  as  keen 
in  hunting  down  those  who  disgrace  the  good  name  of 
his  people  as  he  is  in  upholding  the  hands  of  those 
whose  arms  grow  weary  with  toilsome  service.  His 
own  life  is  a  revelation  of  what  the  Jew  can  be,  as  his 
labor  is  indicative  of  his  love,  zeal  and  loyalty.  He 
knows  himself.  He  knows  the  validity  of  the  values 
of  Jewish  life  and  the  emphases  which  the  Jew  has 
stressed  throughout  his  history;  and  knowing  these, 
he  is  conscious  of  the  mission  of  the  Jew  to  himself  and 
to  the  world.  He  lives  a  life  of  love  and  service.  He 
lives  among  his  people,  sharing  their  burdens  and  glad 
in  their  joys.  Before  God  and  man  he  is  a  man  in  his 
own  heart  and  conscience.  He  is  a  potent  Jew.  Each 

22 


day's  sunset  is  the  promise  of  a  morrow,  whereon  the 
rising  sun  suffuses  the  world  with  the  blood  red  of  a 
greater  promise  and  a  greater  hope.  Before  the  world, 
contented  and  happy,  striving  and  sacrificing,  he  pro- 
claims himself  a  normal  Jew.  "Hear,  O  Israel,  the 
Lord  is  our  God,  the  Lord  is  one."  "Verily,  such  a 
one  is  a  true  Hebrew." 


23 


YOM  KTPPUR  SERMON 


"Here  will  I  give  peace." — Hag.  2 

YOM  KIPPUR  invites  reminiscence.  Many  is  the  one 
indeed  who  is  led  to  the  synagogue  on  this  day  of 
days  by  the  tender  memories  of  days  gone  by.  The  dear 
old  father,  patriarchal  in  his  white  robes,  himself,  a 
tender  lad  clinging  to  his  side ;  the  dear  old  mother,  fast- 
ing and  praying  in  her  secluded  balcony ;  the  bouquet  of 
flowers  brought  with  a  loving  message  as  to  her  com- 
fort ;  the  rosy  apple  thickly  studded  with  spices ;  the 
fervid  prayers,  the  quaint  old  chants,  the  passionate 
beating  of  the  breast  in  confession,  the  gathering  shad- 
ows in  the  dimly  lit  house  of  God,  the  final  outburst  of 
the  Shema  and  the  thrilling  Shofar  blast, — how  these 
linger  in  the  memory  and  border  with  the  fine  lace  of 
rare  experience  days  which  are  dead  and  gone.  Many 
a  one  finds  himself  drawn  to  the  synagogue,  the  home 
of  his  father  and  his  father's  God,  by  such  memories 
of  old,  rich  in  love  and  in  reverence. 

The  day  invites  such  reminiscences,  for  Judaism  rests 
upon  the  love  and  the  loyalty  of  her  sons  to  their 
fathers  and  to  their  father's  God.  The  very  ritual 
invites  reminiscence.  Such  is  the  underlying  thought 
of  the  Memorial  Service,  that  solemn  hour  of  the  day, 
when  not  alone  do  we  call  to  memory  the  blessed  dead, 
but  in  their  name  and  because  of  their  devotion  appeal 

27 


once  more  to  hearts  untouched  and  irresponsive  to  live 
in  the  same  light  and  under  the  same  consecration. 

And  our  solemn  afternoon  service,  with  its  pathetic 
references  to  the  Atonement  Day  of  old  as  practiced 
in  the  Temple  on  Zion.  Israel  sighs  in  reminiscences, 
and  well  may  she  sigh ;  for  the  Temple  of  Zion  was  the 
very  heart  and  center  of  her  national  and  her  religious 
life.  That  temple  consecrated  its  people,  and  the 
people,  devoted  to  their  temple,  added  luster  to  the 
great  shrine  of  Jehovah.  Well  may  we  sigh  as  we 
recall  those  glorious  ceremonials  attended  by  fervid 
devotees  from  all  parts  of  the  known  world,  bearing 
sacrifices  and  gifts  and  lifting  up  their  hearts  in 
prayers — symbols  of  a  powerful,  world-conquering  zeal. 
Well  may  we  sigh  for  the  destruction  of  Israel's 
shrines,  both  of  which,  strangely  enough,  fell  upon 
one  and  the  same  day, — a  sad  and  solemn  day  in  the  life 
of  our  people. 

Friend  and  foe  agree  in  describing  the  Temple  on 
Zion  in  most  glowing  panegyric.  The  white  stone 
temple,  orange  brown  in  the  sunlight,  the  glittering 
spires  and  steeples,  the  vari-colored  Oriental  crowds 
thronging  the  court-yards,  the  white-robed  priests,  the 
thousand-throated  chorus  of  singers  and  musicians, 
the  solemn  processions,  the  clouds  of  incense,  the  mur- 
mur of  countless  prayers,  and  most  solemn  of  all,  the 
High  Priest  in  his  vestments  of  glory,  surrounded  by 
his  assistants,  making  atonement  for  himself,  his  house- 

28 


hold,  his  people,  mankind ;  hesitatingly,  yet  confidently, 
entering  the  Holy  of  Holies  this  once  in  the  year. 
What  a  history  gathered  around  that  spot!  Legend 
added  to  legend  till  the  love  and  the  devotion  of  the 
people  conceived  it  as  the  very  center  of  the  universe 
and  yielded  it  the  passionate  love  of  an  emotional  race. 
Abraham  is  supposed  to  have  offered  there  his  well- 
beloved  son.  David's  heroism  recaptured  the  site  and 
dedicated  it  to  its  holy  purpose.  Solomon's  buildings 
made  it  renowned  throughout  the  world  and  centered 
the  greed  and  the  lust  of  many  a  conqueror  upon  its 
priceless  treasures.  Here  the  people  sacrificed  and 
prayed,  priests  taught,  and  prophets  roused  the  dormant 
conscience  of  their  folk.  Here  kings  were  proclaimed 
and  priests  acknowledged.  It  was  the  center  of  Jewish 
life.  Its  glory  dimmed  forever  the  fires  of  the  petty 
pagan  shrines  scattered  up  and  down  the  land,  and 
the  central  sanctuary  contributed  as  much  as  any  other 
single  force  to  weld  the  diverse  elements  of  the  tribes 
into  a  unity  and  to  give  content  and  power  to  those 
tribes  as  the  nation  of  Israel. 

The  Temple  made  the  people  conscious  through  its 
all-pervading  symbolism  of  the  presence  of  God  in  its 
midst  and  of  their  consecration  to  Him  and  His  law. 
Each  time  the  Holy  City  was  threatened  they  rushed 
impetuously  to  its  defense;  each  time  it  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  conqueror,  piled  high  about  the  sacred 
place,  piled  high,  uncounted  and  uncountable,  the  life- 

29 


less  bodies  of  the  loyal  and  the  best  gave  silent,  eloquent 
testimony  to  the  love  of  the  Jew  for  that  place,  hal- 
lowed by  the  prayers  of  Israel  for  generations  and  for 
centuries.  In  its  fallen  state  it  never  lost  its  hold  upon 
the  love  of  the  Jew.  Returning  from  Babylonian  ex- 
ile, the  first  thought  of  the  returned  exiles  was  to 
rebuild  their  House  of  God.  Humble,  indeed,  in  com- 
parison to  the  first  Temple, — so  humble  that  the  tears 
of  the  elders  flowed  without  cessation  when  they  re- 
called the  former  glory, — yet  the  house  of  Israel's  God. 
Need,  indeed,  then  for  the  prophet  to  cheer  and  to 
comfort :  "Yet  greater  shall  be  the  glory  of  the  second 
House  than  that  of  the  former,  and  in  this  place  shall 
I  give  peace."  And,  indeed,  Israel  found  peace  in  that 
Temple,  where  it  seemed  to  him  that  heaven  met  earth 
and  man  was  in  closest  communion  with  God.  Here 
was  peace — peace  from  weary  ambitions  and  the  name- 
less heartaches  of  the  exile.  Here  was  peace,  for  here 
was  God.  Here  was  life,  love,  freedom  and  truth. 
Here  was  all  that  made  life  worth  the  while. 

Now  a  new  and  saving  element  entered  Jewish 
life.  The  scribe  found  his  place  in  the  Temple 
economy.  More  and  more  the  priest  became  a  mere 
ritualist  and  official  of  the  sanctuary ;  the  function  and 
privilege  of  teaching  the  people  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  scribes,  the  guardians  of  the  sacred  Word,  of  that 
Word  of  which  it  has  been  said,  "Great  peace  have  they 
that  love  thy  law,  there  shall  be  no  stumbling  unto 

30 


them."  Scribes  built  schools  and  synagogues — indeed, 
taught  in  the  very  Temple  itself;  and  the  lessons  of 
religious  zeal,  ethical  probity,  and  moral  uprightness 
grew  strong  in  the  very  stronghold  of  the  cult.  Chris- 
tian misrepresentation  has  affected  even  the  popular 
Jewish  estimate  of  their  work.  It  is  no  small  praise. 

We  honestly  hold  them  as  the  saviours  of  Juda- 
ism. A  new  source  of  peace  was  found  aside  from 
that  arising  from  mere  ritual  conformance  and  cere- 
monial correctness.  A  glorious  history  of  another  five 
hundred  years  brought  the  second  Temple  to  a  tragic 
end,  when,  stained  with  the  life-blood  of  myriads  of 
Israel's  sons,  it  fell  before  the  prowess  of  Roman  arms. 
The  hastily  flung  torch  of  the  Roman  legionary  com- 
pleted what  the  huge  siege  engines  had  begun. 

But  Israel  never  lost  its  love  for  that  spot.  No  true 
Jew  can  visit  it  to-day  without  experiencing  the  deepest, 
the  profoundest  emotions.  The  orthodox  will  not  cross 
the  silent  court-yard,  now  the  property  of  the  Moslem, 
lest  he  might  unwittingly  enter  the  spot  of  the  Holy  of 
Holies  or  defile  the  sacred  utensils  which  an  ill-founded 
tradition  says  were  buried  beneath  the  centuries-old 
flag-stones.  But  the  Jewish  visitor  who  goes  not  only 
to  satisfy  his  tourist  curiosity  at  the  splendid  archi- 
tectural remains,  but  to  be  reminiscent  for  a  moment, 
to  recall  the  scenes  of  the  days  that  were,  is  blessed 
with  a  vision,  with  a  thrill  not  to  be  compared  with 
any  experience  in  the  world ;  for  he  stands  at  the  birth- 

31 


place  of  his  faith,  at  the  cradle  of  his  people's  past, 
and  memory  peoples  the  vast  courtyards  with  the 
specters  of  those  who  served  and  sacrificed,  of  those 
who  lived  and  died  for  him  and  his.  And  he,  the  Jew, 
is  their  child — in  his  veins  their  blood,  in  his  heart 
their  faith,  in  his  soul  their  vision — the  vision  of  the 
day  when  one  shall  say  to  another,  "Come,  ye,  and  let 
us  go  up  to  the  mountain  of  the  Lord,  to  the  House  of 
the  God  of  Jacob,  and  He  will  teach  us  of  His  ways 
and  we  will  walk  in  His  paths;  for  from  Zion  shall 
come  forth  the  Law  and  the  Word  of  the  Lord  from 
Jerusalem,"  and  for  the  once  he  knows  peace !  He 
sees,  but  not  with  the  eye ;  he  understands  as  only  the 
brimful  heart  can  understand. 

When  the  Temple  no  longer  stood,  and  the  sacrificial 
cult  no  more  centered  the  religious  loyalty  of  Israel, 
the  schools  and  the  synagogues  which  had  long  before 
begun  to  flourish  among  the  Jews  became  the  center  of 
the  new  reconstructed  and  regenerated  life;  and  the 
sages  and  the  scholars  of  Israel  restated  Judaism  in 
terms  of  prayer,  charity  and  law,  for  they  said  that 
"the  world  rested  upon  the  triple  fundament  of  Torah, 
Abodah  and  Gemilut  Hasodim."  For  the  heart  of  the 
Jew  cried  out  its  insatiable  longing  for  peace,  and 
the  answer  of  the  Jew  was  then  as  it  is  now :  peace  is 
the  spiritual  condition  which  conformance  with  the 
laws  of  God  and  life  bring  to  him  who  loves  that  law 
of  life,  who  pursues  it  and  follows  it  and  tries  in  him- 

32 


self  to  realize  something  of  that  "heaven  which  men 
strive  for  here  on  earth."  Peace  is  the  portion  of  him, 
who,  loyal  to  the  dreams  and  ideals  of  his  fathers, 
devotes  himself  and  consecrates  his  life  to  the  bring- 
ing in  of  that  day  on  which  "the  knowledge  of  God 
shall  cover  the  earth  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea."  Peace 
is  the  portion  of  him 'who  dwells  among  his  people, 
lives,  dreams,  works,  and  dies  with  them  in  love  and 
in  hope. 

Probably  the  most  remarkable  fact  of  the  religious 
life  is  the  universality  of  that  life.  There  is  no  one 
fact  that  makes  more  for  religiosity  than  the  unques- 
tioned universality  of  the  religious  impulse.  The  ig- 
norant black  man  before  his  formless  fetich,  the  cul- 
tured Athenian  lost  in  silent  admiration  of  the  match- 
less Athene  of  Phidias,  the  devout  Christian  in  the 
solemn  silences  of  his  great  cathedral,  the  simple  meet- 
ing-house of  the  Evangelical,  the  ubiquitous  synagogue 
of  the  Jew,  the  devotions  of  the  barbarous,  the  savage, 
the  civilized,  the  prayers  of  the  fifteenth  century  B.  C. 
and  of  the  twentieth  century  A.  D., — all  one  in  their 
expression  of  the  religious  need,  all  reaching  out  to 
that  unknown  God  whom  ignorantly  men  serve,  all  a 
unit  in  their  imperative  cry  to  know  the  peace  of  God. 
Life  calls,  the  heart  cries,  problems  press ;  religion  gives 
the  answer.  Here  in  its  bosom  will  God  give  peace — 
the  peace  of  life  and  love. 

Man  may,  indeed,  be  said  to  be  incurably  religious. 

33 


The  onslaughts  of  philosophers,  the  logic  of  logicians, 
the  researches  of  scientists  each  in  turn  battles  wildly, 
yet  idly,  against  the  battlements  of  the  religious  life. 
Let  Nietzche  and  Haeckel  and  Romanes  and  Voltaire 
destroy  what  they  will  and  how  they  will,  phoenix-like 
religion  rises  from  its  ashes.  The  shell  may  be  de- 
stroyed. The  kernel  unharmed  persists.  New  churches 
are  founded  and  built  and  dedicated  to  God,  for  the 
human  heart  cries  out  its  need  of  the  divine.  It  is  ex- 
pressive of  a  human  need — Nordau  would  say  of  a 
biological  need.  Bad  as  men  may  be,  vicious  as  they 
may  be,  ignorant  as  they  may  be,  they  demand  some 
form  of  religious  expression.  It  may  be  the  ecstacy 
of  the  dervish,  the  silence  of  the  yogi,  the  solitude  of 
the  saint,  the  fury  of  the  commune,  the  prayer  of  the 
Jew,  the  absorption  of  the  mystic — whatever  it  is,  it 
is  the  expression  of  the  human  need  for  peace,  for  a 
bigger,  more  satisfying  interpretation  of  life.  Just  as 
the  new-born  babe  turns  to  its  mother  and  fumbles  at 
her  breast,  so  man  turns  to  the  secret  of  the  universe, 
and  like  a  child  in  the  night,  draws  nourishment  for  its 
heart  and  soul  from  the  God  of  things  that  are. 

For  let  us  not  forget  that  religion  exists  because 
man  exists.  There  may  be  religion  among  beasts  for 
all  we  know.  Just  as  Caliban  in  Browning's  poem 
looked  upon  Setebos  as  his  God,  so  may  perhaps  the 
dog  and  the  cat  at  our  domestic  hearths  look  to  us  as 
the  divine  masters  of  their  destiny.  But  there  is  no 

34 


need  to  speculate  about  those  outside  humanity.  We 
are  humans,  and  the  universal  human  experience  cries 
out  its  need  and  demands  its  satisfaction.  It  cries, 
and  great — shall  we  call  them  inspired? — men  have 
arisen  and  taught  in  the  name  of  the  great  God.  Mis- 
taken Voltaireans !  mere  priestcraft  could  never  have 
so  enslaved  the  human  spirit.  It  is  not  as  they 
would  claim,  that  all  religions  are  equally  negligible 
because  equally  false.  We  approach  the  problem,  too, 
of  the  multiplicity  of  religions  and  their  failures,  but 
with  the  higher  and  holier  thought  of  the  newer  theo- 
ries; that  in  all  manifestations  of  the  religious  life 
there  is  something  real  and  lastingly  divine;  that  they 
are  all  adumbrations  of  the  eternal  truth  towards  which 
mankind  is  ever  up-struggling.  Religions  may  be 
many,  but  religion — the  cry  of  the  human — is  one. 
The  religious  teachers  of  the  world  have  been  the  great- 
est of  men  because  their  inspiration  alone  has  helped 
man  to  find  peace  and  to  rest  at  ease  in  the  universe  of 
trial  and  pain  and  aspiration. 

Ages  ago  did  the  great  law-giver  of  Israel  teach  his 
people  that  the  Torah,  religion,  was  given  to  man  for 
his  good.  God  has  no  need  of  this.  But  to  reach  the 
godlike,  to  reach  up  into  the  self  bigger  than  ourselves, 
to  attain  the  heights  through  strength  where  peace 
may  be,  man  accepts  the  teachings  of  his  prophets 
spoken  in  the  name  of  his  God.  Religion's  function 
is  manward  and  not  otherwise.  It  enters  as  a  factor 

35 


into  human  life  for  the  blessing  and  uplift  of  mankind. 
It  has  entered  in  to  lift  man  step  by  step  out  of  the 
depths  of  animality ;  it  has  brought  that  emphasis  upon 
the  divine  possibilities  resident  in  every  heart  and  soul, 
bidding  man  look  upward  and  outward. 

And  it  is  most  satisfactory  to  us  as  Jews  to  know 
and  to  understand  that  Judaism  has  ever  emphasized 
living  this — worldly  values.  Not  faithless  of  a  larger 
life  beyond  our  ken,  we  have,  nevertheless,  emphasized 
the  necessity  of  faith  and  righteous  conduct  in  this 
world.  It  is  not  that  we  were  less  faithful,  but  rather 
more.  Trustful  of  God,  anxious  to  perform  his  will, 
the  Jew  has  lived  his  best  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
abiding  goodness  of  Him  for  whom  time  is  not  and 
before  Whom  all  is  clear  as  the  noonday  sun.  To  us, 
the  approach  to  God  has  ever  been  through  service  to 
our  fellow-men.  When  the  old  scholars,  saints  and 
rabbinical  mystics, — whom  Dr.  Schechter  has  so  charm- 
ingly portrayed  in  his  Jewish  studies, — when  they 
would  approach  God,  it  was  not  only  through  the  pious 
exercise  of  study  and  prayer,  but  with  the  words  of  Job 
upon  their  lips :  "I  was  eyes  to  the  blind  and  feet  to  the 
lame,  and  the  cause  of  him  who  had  no  friend  I  ad- 
vocated." 

Do  you  remember  that  noble  passage  in  the  second 
part  of  Goethe's  "Faust,"  the  climax  of  that  superb 
drama  of  the  human  soul  when  Faust  cries  out  to 
Mephistopheles,  "Stay,  thou  art  so  fair."  It  had  been 

36 


covenanted  between  Faust  and  his  satanic  master  that 
when  once  he  should  experience  a  moment  so  surpass- 
ingly satisfactory  as  to  suggest  its  repetition  that  the 
bond  between  the  two  should  be  dissolved.  True  to  his 
promise,  the  devil  had  sated  his  protege  with  all  the 
pleasures  of  the  world  and  of  sense.  He  had  known 
love,  but  it  turned  to  ashes  in  his  hand;  the  sciences, 
the  arts,  all  the  knowledge  of  the  world  and  men  was 
his;  still  persistent  in  his  pursuit  of  the  ever-receding 
ideal,  he  finally  comes  to  the  bit  of  marsh  land  which 
he  drains  and  rids  of  its  fevers  and  turns  it  over  to  a 
busy  colony  of  men  and  women  for  their  enjoyment  of 
life.  The  contemplation  of  the  joy  which  he  had 
brought  to  these,  his  fellows,  and  the  peace  he  had 
brought  to  himself  causes  the  student  of  the  eternal 
Truth  to  Cry  out,  "Stay,  thou  art  so  fair."  He  sounded 
the  depths  of  the  secret  of  life  in  that  moment  of  moral 
enthusiasm.  Saturated  with  the  highest  and  holiest 
emotions,  he  experienced  the  vision  of  God  which  re- 
leased his  soul  from  its  fatal  bondage.  Aye,  peace  was 
his — is  ours — on  the  one  eternal  condition  that  he 
would  find  his  peace  with  God  by  satisfying  his  own 
heart  and  his  own  soul,  by  serving  his  fellowmen,  and 
adding  to  the  joy  and  to  the  gladness  of  the  universe. 

Jewish  sanity  has  never  better  exemplified  itself 
than  in  its  avoidance  of  emphasis  upon  the  other  world. 
Alluring  as  is  the  pictured  glories  of  a  heavenly  Jeru- 
salem, its  streets  aglow  with  gold,  its  saintly  cohorts 

37 


gleaming  in  purple  and  white,  singing  psalms  and  feast- 
ing on  the  Leviathan,  it  is  debasing  to  be  compelled  to 
preach  goodness  at  such  a  price.  It  is  barbaric,  for  it 
represents  little  better  than  the  dream  of  the  Indian 
revelling  in  the  unstinted  game  of  the  happy  hunting 
ground.  And,  as  Pascal  pointed  out,  who  would  not 
forego  temporary  pain  for  the  prospect  of  such  eternal 
pleasures?  And  the  very  turning  of  the  attention  of 
men  away  from  the  concerns  of  this  world  to  those  of 
the  world  beyond  has  been  fraught  with  the  saddest 
consequences  to  the  world.  The  emphasis  upon  monas- 
ticism  as  a  preparation  for  the  world  beyond  robbed 
Europe  in  times  of  her  greatest  need  of  her  noblest  and 
her  best.  The  devastations  of  war  did  little  less  to 
hinder  civilization's  progress  than  did  celibacy  and 
monasticism — all  evidences  of  the  other  worldly  ideal. 
It  encouraged  contempt  of  this  world.  It  neglected 
the  things  near  at  hand,  permitting  wrongs  to  flourish 
and  grow  strong,  stilling  the  crying  heart  with  the 
promise  of  a  happy  day  in  another  and  better  world. 
It  would  not  have  been  possible  for  the  myriad  of 
social  injustices  to  have  fixed  themselves  so  firmly  in 
the  heart  of  human  life  had  it  not  been  for  this  neglect 
of  the  affairs  of  this  world  and  their  subordination  to 
the  concerns  of  the  mystical  existence  in  the  great  be- 
yond. Ours  is  still  the  ideal  of  that  old  master  in  the 
Mishnah :  "Serve  not  your  master  like  slaves,  who  serve 
but  for  the  sake  of  reward."  The  highest  moral  con- 

38 


duct  such  as  has  been  exemplified  by  the  faithful  Jew 
throughout  time  is  possible  only  when  right  is  accom- 
plished for  right's  sake,  honesty  because  it  alone  is 
right,  and  not  because  it  is  good  policy ;  for  there  must 
be  times  even  when  it  is  not  the  best  policy.  Yet  the 
right  and  the  true  must  be  served. 

Religion  for  us  has  been  no  opiate.  We  have  not 
invoked  it  to  stifle  the  conscience  and  put  men's  spirit 
to  sleep.  If  I  am  correctly  informed  by  my  medical 
friends,  the  use  of  opiates,  though  expedient  and  at 
times  even  necessary,  in  the  long  run  is  dangerous, 
destroying  the  fabrics  of  the  body  and  undermining  the 
stability  of  the  mind.  And  so  it  must  be,  too,  with  the 
use  of  religion  as  an  opiate.  Let  him  who  dares  abuse 
its  normal  functions.  I  have  heard  romanticists  com- 
plain because  our  service  furnished  no  intoxicant  as 
does  that,  for  example,  of  the  Catholic  church,  with 
its  insinuating  incense,  sensuous  music,  its  soft  chants, 
its  elaborate  ceremonials,  its  promise  of  heaven  and  hell, 
its  traffic  in  indulgences,  its  confessional,  its  mystic 
communion  and  sacraments.  Yet  even  the  conscien- 
tious Catholic  knows  these  are  but  externalities,  sym- 
bols of  ideals.  To  be  sure,  such  service  is  appealing. 
To  be  sure,  it  is  easy.  It  is  too  easy,  this  religious 
opiate,  for,  just  like  the  unreason  of  Christian  Science, 
it  lulls  to  sleep  and  numbs  the  normal  faculties.  It 
brings  peace,  to  be  sure,  but  it  is  not  the  peace  of  life. 
It  is  a  numbness,  the  numbness  of  death.  It  is  the 

39 


sleep  of  the  soul,  and  not  its  awakening,  seductive,  to 
be  sure,  but  the  end — we  shudder  to  contemplate  the 
possibilities  of  the  end. 

Let  De  Quincy  unfold  the  tale  of  the  opium  eater; 
listen  to  the  stories  of  his  dreams,  to  the  seductive 
moments,  in  which,  oblivious  to  life  and  its  demands, 
he  lives  in  another  world;  his  heart  and  soul  are  ab- 
sorbed in  the  fiction  and  the  fancy  of  his  dreams ;  his 
mind  revels  in  the  ecstacy  of  forgotten  life,  of  duties 
thrust  aside.  Ah,  yes,  he  forgets ;  the  world,  life,  duty, 
conscience — all  are  stilled  for  him,  and  he  is  at  peace. 
But  at  what  a  price!  More  opium  and  more  dope — 
to  discover  himself  at  last  a  hopeless  weakling,  his  man- 
hood undermined,  his  character  weakened,  his  initiative 
lost,  his  life  a  ruin,  his  very  dreams  a  hideous  grinning 
of  reptiles  whose  cankerous  kisses  befoul  his  soul. 

Unless  religion  is  able  to  develop  life,  unfold  char- 
acter, reveal  new  and  unsuspected  depths  of  the  heart 
and  soul,  unless  it  is  able  to  give  a  firmer  grasp  upon 
life's  realities,  and  help  us  discriminate  between  the 
incidental  and  the  abiding,  it  is  false  to  its  mission  and 
traitorous  to  its  possibilities.  A  Jewish  sage  once  said, 
and  never  in  his  whole  career  more  Jewish  than  at  that 
moment,  "I  have  come  that  you  might  have  life,  and 
have  it  more  abundantly."  He  spoke  the  message  of 
religious  truth  to  his  hearers.  "This  is  a  law  by  which 
ye  shall  live" ;  and  life  is  life,  not  the  seeming  of  life. 
Religion  abides  to-day  because  it  has  been  able  to  in- 

40 


crease  the  validity  of  the  values  of  life,  and  not  to  blind 
us  either  to  its  defects,  its  sorrows,  its  trials ;  it  is  be- 
cause it  teaches  us  how  to  master  life,  and  not  be  mas- 
tered by  life.  What  good,  indeed,  to  tell  the  heart- 
broken mother,  the  widowed  bride  with  her  babes,  that 
her  loss  is  not  real,  but  only  seeming?  What  good  to 
administer  an  opiate  and  leave  the  patient  unattended 
with  the  sage  advice  to  continue  the  administration  of 
such  sleep-producing  thoughts?  What  good  unless 
the  sickness  itself  be  removed  to  prate  about  the  unreal- 
ity of  the  real  and  the  unreality  of  daily  experience? 
Let  our  religion  give  us  strength  and  not  the  appear- 
ance of  strength,  peace  and  not  a  seeming  peace,  but 
real,  vital,  helpful, — the  peace  of  an  abundant  life  and 
not  the  peace  of  death,  powerless,  ineffectual  and  soul- 
destroying. 

It  is  indeed,  the  function  of  religion,  of  the  church 
and  the  synagogue,  to  give  peace,  but  not  peace  at  any 
price  nor  peace  without  honor.  It  can,  it  will,  give  a 
firmer  hold  upon  life's  realities.  It  can,  it  does,  give 
an  exalted  point  of  view,  looking  out  from  which,  man, 
like  the  old  law-giver  on  Nebo,  can  look  out  and  see 
all  behind  him  and  before  him — behind  him  the  honest 
achievements  and  the  honest  failures  of  an  honest  life ; 
before  him  the  glorious  Land  of  Promise  of  ever  in- 
creasing performance  and  aspiration. 

Yet,  to  give  this  peace,  the  church  must  needs 
thunder  and  denounce  and  bring  unrest  and  pain,  for 

41 


peace  is  not  mere  smug  self-satisfaction.  When  the 
church  is  truest  to  itself  it  cries,  "No  peace"  where 
there  is  no  peace.  Like  the  prophet  Nathan  of  old,  it 
calls  out  fearlessly,  "Thou  art  the  man,"  and  startles 
us  out  of  self-contentment,  even  into  miserable  self- 
reproach.  Just  so  does  this  Day  of  Atonement  come 
into  our  lives,  not  to  lull  us  into  any  fancied,  unreal 
sense  of  security.  Its  prayers,  its  castigation,  its  sac- 
rifices do  not,  cannot,  bribe  either  God  or  man.  They 
can  only  arouse — arouse  us  from  our  stupor,  arouse  us 
from  our  selfish  contentment,  and  demand  in  the  name 
of  God,  of  the  world  justice,  of  the  world  love,  of  the 
world  truth,  of  the  ever  righteous,  that  we  throw  off 
those  habits  which  do  not  square  with  the  eternal  truths 
of  things,  and  highly,  serenely,  solemnly  resolve  to 
amend.  The  church  comes  as  often  with  the  sword 
to  rouse  the  slumbering  conscience  as  it  does  with  the 
soothing  word  to  calm  the  tired  heart  and  dismayed 
soul.  It  is  unsparing  in  its  demands.  It  knows  no 
high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  small.  Truth  is  truth  and 
love  is  love.  There  can  be  no  compromise.  Before  God 
there  is  no  concealment.  I  can  conceive  of  the  church 
fulfilling  its  function  to  the  highest  degree  by  causing 
men  to  grovel  in  the  dust  of  self-abasement,  conscious 
of  their  sins,  their  short-comings,  their  hypocrisy,  their 
pretense, — man  at  war  with  himself  because  he  knows 
himself  at  last, — and  the  end  is  peace,  though  the  way 
be  weary  and  thorny.  In  its  function  as  the  teacher 

42 


of  God,  of  the  eternal  verities,  in  its  function  as  the 
prophet  who  sees  clearly  and  speaks  plainly,  the  church 
must  create  pain  and  panic.  Indeed,  the  preacher  could 
be  supremely  satisfied  if  each  time  he  delivered  him- 
self in  his  pulpit  he  sent  some  one  away  at  war  with  his 
old  self,  at  war  with  his  opiated  conscience  in  which 
the  platitudes  and  the  bromides  and  the  self-accusatory 
excuses  had  lulled  his  best  self  to  rest  and  given  him 
the  appearance  of  peace. 

We  preach  of  peace — of  a  peace  which  is  honorable, 
the  conformance  to  the  highest  things  in  life,  the  peace 
of  honest  understanding,  peace  which  knows  no  com- 
promise with  wrong,  and  which  will  give  no  rest  till 
the  ideal  is  fulfilled,  till  that  "all  the  ways  of  life  be 
pleasant  and  all  its  paths  be  peace." 

And  even  more,  Judaism  at  its  best  can  promise  and 
does  promise  no  peace  for  mere  ritual  conformance. 
That  is  too  easy  a  kind  of  religion  to  be  a  vital  religion. 
We  cherish  our  historical  forms  as  expressive  of  the 
Jewish  spirit.  We  honor  and  hallow  them  by  our  love 
and  our  loyalty,  but  their  mere  performance  is  no  guar- 
antee of  peace  either  with  God,  with  the  world,  or  with 
one's  self.  Our  religion,  in  last  analysis,  is  one  of 
moral  ideals ;  and  the  ever-receding  character  of  the 
ideal  assumes  that  no  service  can  satisfy  the  demands 
of  the  ideal.  Many  a  one  finds  himself  in  the  position 
of  Chanticleer,  whose  crowing  seems  to  him  to  cause 
the  brilliant  orb  of  day  again  to  suffuse  the  world 

43 


with  its  light.  Disillusioned,  he  learns  that  the  eternal 
demands  service — service  which  will  bring  light  and 
love  into  the  hearts  of  others  by  its  sacrifice  and  its 
joy,  even  when  unable  to  control  the  rising  of  the  stars 
or  the  destiny  of  the  universe.  Yet  each  can,  aye,  must, 
do  his  share  so  that  "a  nightingale  may  always  sing  in 
the  forest."  As  the  rabbis  of  old  put  it,  the  work  is 
great,  but  it  is  not  encumbent  upon  you  to  complete 
the  work;  each  to  do  his  loyal  best,  each  to  do  his 
share,  each  to  accomplish  something  in  his  sphere, 
something  of  useful  activities,  but  that  something  so  in- 
sistent, so  persistent  as  to  give  no  peace  until  its  de- 
mands have  been  met  at  least  in  part. 

Prayer,  ritual,  ceremonial,  song  and  chant  may  all 
reach  down  into  our  souls  and  help  us  out  of  ourselves 
into  a  bigger  and  broader  thought  of  life,  but  these 
are  futile,  meaningless  unless  with  love  and  with  loyalty 
we  serve  that  ideal  preached  by  the  prophets  and  re- 
peated in  every  generation  by  the  seers  of  Israel :  "And 
thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  I  am  the  Lord" 
— the  sanctification  of  life  by  the  peace  of  aspiration, 
conscientious  performance  of  duty,  love  and  loyalty  to 
the  highest  and  the  best. 

Ah,  here  will  God  give  peace  to  those  who  have 
striven  earnestly,  loved  deeply,  served  honestly  and 
lived  devoutly.  There  is  a  balm  in  Gilead.  There  is 
peace  for  the  troubled  soul  and  the  harrowed  con- 
science in  the  eternal  truths  of  life.  There  is  peace 

44 


and  comfort  in  the  consciousness  of  God  and  the  abid- 
ingness  of  the  spirit  of  man.  There  is  peace  in  this 
day's  regeneration  through  solemn  repentance  and  in 
the  still  more  solemn  resolve  to  act  rightly.  There  is 
peace  in  life,  in  love,  in  goodness,  in  faith,  in  hope. 
There  is  peace  in  Judaism  for  those  who  will  under- 
stand, and,  understanding,  live  and  practice.  There  is 
peace  in  this  Day  of  Atonement  for  him  whose  heart 
is  clean  and  whose  hands  are  pure,  whose  prayers  are 
sincere,  and  whose  devotion  honest,  whose  life  shows 
on  the  morrow  the  blessings  of  the  service  of  to-day. 

Oh,  ye  who  are  sorrow  laden,  oh,  ye  who  are  bowed 
down  with  grief,  here  is  peace  in  the  House  of  Israel's 
God.  Oh,  ye  whose  conscience  accuses,  whose  life  is 
not  whole  and  pure,  whose  lips  are  not  clean,  seek  ye 
then  peace  ?  "Wash  yourselves,  make  yourselves  clean." 
Here,  indeed,  will  I  give  peace  to  him  who  "hath  clean 
hands  and  a  pure  heart,  whose  soul  hath  not  sworn 
deceitfully.  He  shall  receive  a  blessing  from  the  Lord 
and  righteousness  from  the  God  of  his  salvation." 
"Peace,  peace,  then,  to  him  who  is  near,  and  peace  to 
him  who  is  far  off."  "There  is  no  peace  to  the  evil- 
doers," saith  my  God.  Here,  here,  then,  in  the  presence 
of  the  eternal  truths  of  life,  in  the  presence  of  Israel 
and  Israel's  God,  whose  blessing  is  ours  and  our  chil- 
dren's, here  do  we  this  day  find  Him. 


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UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


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